


When 'Hungry Like The Wolf' Doesn't Even Begin To Explain It

by Stilesaur



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Annoyed Derek, Annoyed Stiles, Cooking, Cute, Developing Relationship, Drabble, Grocery Shopping, Happy Derek, I don't even know what to tag anymore, Isaac Needs a Hug, M/M, Oneshot, Scents & Smells, Stakeout, Stiles is lonely, and compliments happen, derek is also fond of stiles, derek is also very lonely, i mean wut, nothing but fluff, persistant stiles, scott is a best friend with lack of knowledge, sterek, stiles has long hair that looks sexy in a hood, stiles is fond of derek, together they find themselves always around food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stilesaur/pseuds/Stilesaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stiles, I swear to God.”</p><p>Stiles began to laugh again, his head falling back into the leather head-rest. His feet moved back and forth in a rhythmic fashion on Derek’s dashboard and to much surprise, Derek didn’t tell him to drop them.</p><p>“That was perfect timing! Who knew the radio was so intuitive to werewolf emotions?”</p><p>Derek shook his head, already regretting letting Stiles touch the radio in his car only for it to turn to a station that, strange enough, was playing the song ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When 'Hungry Like The Wolf' Doesn't Even Begin To Explain It

**Author's Note:**

> 10 HOURS AND SOMETHING MINUTES LATER! I HAVE FINISHED. I shall go drop dead on my bed now. <3 Much love.
> 
> (inspired by this picture: https://scontent-b-dfw.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/t1.0-9/10264774_1434094070176606_3593457256768161285_n.png)

Derek surveyed the many assortments of meat. They all looked the same and less appetizing the more he looked but if he was to have something to eat tonight, he’d have to brace himself for whatever he could get (apparently not a lot).

He hadn’t even noticed when Stiles appeared by his right shoulder, hands shoved into his jeans pockets and red hood over his head. Given, he had five senses that were ten times more intensified to that of a human’s but that doesn’t mean he pays any more attention to his surroundings than he wants to.

“It’s freezing,” is the first thing the teenage boy says. Derek inspects him, noting the smell of pack lingering on him, accompanying Stiles’ cheap dollar store ‘cologne + lotion in one’ package-deal that smells oddly just like any other fifty-dollar cologne he’s bought.

Other than what Stiles usually smells like (he tries too hard not to think about how he knows this), there is no underlying emotions besides anxiousness and over the top exaggeration. Derek deems it safe to go back to his shopping.

He gives the meat section one last longing glance before deciding to go with chicken for tonight, picking the best one out of them all, shoving it into a plastic baggy, and then replying to Stiles with a simple, “No it’s not.”

“Well that’s because you have a leather jacket on,” Stiles tried to reason, his lips puffing out like how he always did when trying to surpass a reason through a barrier of logic. Derek’s noticed it an unreasonable amount of times when Stiles was confronted by his father’s questions.

“And you have a hoodie,” He shot back once the teen stopped hovering over his shoulder.

“You’re a werewolf.”

“You’re a human.”

Stiles scrunched up his face and sighed in annoyance, “Screw you. I’m going somewhere warm.”

Derek watched as Stiles trailed back off to no doubt where Scott and Isaac were (camping in the candy aisle, he assumed). It was amazing how easy it was for Stiles to go from one person of interest to another unwilling occupant without second thought. It was no wonder why Sheriff Stilinski was always so worried about him.

When he went to go pay Louanne, the grocery store’s only willing worker to pull a shift at ten at night, he was greeted by three sleep-deprived adolescents. Packs of red bull and Twizzlers lined the conveyor belt of his favorite cash registrar and he couldn’t help but already know what the future had in store.

Isaac looked up first, his eyes widening at his once-was Alpha, a smile threatening to split his face in half. Derek found it kind of relieving if not adorable.

“Derek!” He exclaimed, truly surprised at his presence. Looks like he wasn’t the only one not using his werewolf senses this late at night. He would scold him, if it wasn’t for the encounter with Stiles minutes before. But then again, when wasn’t encounters with Stiles not ending in some ruining of his intentional plans?

Scott, almost like it was meant for him to mimic a puppy’s appearance forever, looked up from playing footsy with Stiles and smiled with as much enthusiasm as his body could muster.

“Hey, dude! What are you doing here so late?”

Derek’s eyes met amber ones and he saw a flicker of annoyance in them. He would’ve questioned it if it weren’t for Stiles smart ass response to a question that wasn’t even directed towards him.

“Not freezing his ass off,” He answered with a roll of his eyes. It was an ambiguous gesture that made Derek present a cocky expression with a raise of his dark, usually brooding eyebrows.

He placed his pink chicken meat onto the belt after their items, flashing teeth at the old woman ringing up them up. Louanne showed a few of her own teeth in return. Hint: a few.

"Stiles."

If Stiles had dog ears, he was sure that they’d perk up as high as they could go from the expression on his face.

He looked at Derek expectantly, his eyes no longer expressing an emotion of irritation.

Derek leaned on the metal counter and crossed his arms over his chest, "Find somewhere warm yet?"

 

 

* * *

 

“You’re no fun,” Stiles said in mock of a spoiled child who didn’t get his way, jiggling his left foot to go with the act. Derek had heard he wasn’t fun many times before from Cora so it didn’t surprise him now.

“God, are werewolves _always_ this greedy?” Stiles announced more than asked while he pulled his weight onto the apartment counter, his arms supporting his torso. Derek sighed heavily through his nose, ignoring the fact that Stiles legs were swinging far enough for a disaster to happen.

There was no way he was going to give Stiles some of his pasta. He spent fifteen minutes trying to prepare it, he wasn’t going to let some teenager dine on it instead. He had other pre-heated items in his pantry and groceries that he had bought the week before. Stiles could either get out of the habit of asking Derek for food and go make him some ramen noodles or suffer starvation.

“There’s some bread in that cupboard over there.”

Stiles held long, lean fingers to his chest, “Is that how you treat your guests? I’m wounded, Derek.”

He raised his eyes from the pasta to Stiles, not fully understanding the fact that he was complaining about hunger when Scott had offered to take him out to eat.

“You could’ve gone with Scott and Isaac to Sonic,” Derek stated.

“Yeah, right,” Stiles laughed sarcastically, “be the third-wheel again. I’ll pass, thanks.”

Stiles had grown tired of being dragged along to do things that only Scott and Isaac enjoyed doing. Derek had caught on to it during one pack meeting when Stiles’ jealousy was the only thing that he could smell in the room. Stiles' eyes were dark and imminent to snapping someone’s neck when Scott forgot for the third time (not like he was counting) that he was talking to him first before Isaac interrupted.

By the time Scott finally realized his sour mood, he spent some time trying to dig it out of him. Stiles didn’t budge and kept trying to convince everyone it was nothing. But Derek knew. And Stiles knew he noticed, not that the eye contact that they made when Scott kept badgering him about it was anything to go off of.

Derek exhaled, cutting more slices of tomato up and tossing them onto his plate, “I’m sure it would’ve been better to hang out with them than stay here.”

“Well,” Stiles gave a half smile, “you’re not so bad, sourwolf.”

With that, he leaped off the counter and made his way to the living room, leaving Derek feel both pleased and less irritated than before. How someone like Stiles could do that was odd enough as is, so he made sure that Stiles heard him when he said that he wasn’t getting any of his food with flattery.

Derek made sure Stiles had a plate of pasta anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek was annoyed. And not the typical annoyed when Scott talked about Allison every minute of every training session they had together but the kind that made him feel hopeless, like he was bound to break a smile any second now. It was the annoyed that only one person could make him feel.

“Stiles, I swear to God.”

Stiles began to laugh again, his head falling back into the leather head-rest. His feet moved back and forth in a rhythmic fashion on Derek’s dashboard and to much surprise, Derek didn’t tell him to drop them.

“That was perfect timing! Who knew the radio was so intuitive to werewolf emotions?”

Derek shook his head, already regretting letting Stiles touch the radio in his car only for it to turn to a station that, strange enough, was playing the song ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’.

“Come on, Derek! You have to agree that was funny,” Stiles said once he realized Derek wasn’t showing the same enthusiasm as he was. When Derek still didn’t give a reaction, Stiles sighed and fixed his position in the seat he’s been sitting in for two hours now.

“Fine, Mr. Grumpy-gills. Be like that. Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood of a crap stakeout that was completely pointless to begin with.”

Stiles crossed his arms and ignored Derek for another five minutes, eyes only on the abandoned warehouse that belonged in a horror film.

Stiles didn’t have to come along. He chose to. Of course Stiles would argue that statement with ‘ _it’s not like I wanted to’_ for the millionth time. But to be harshly honest, Stiles just didn’t want to be alone. Scott and Isaac had hit an all new high in their friendship, Derek discovered. A huge indication being that Scott had taken Isaac to get some ice cream for probably opening up about something horrifying from his past, unintentionally leaving Stiles behind.

If that wasn’t enough to call Stiles a third-wheel, a neon-sign wouldn’t do much to declare it either.

The past-Derek would have no problem kicking Stiles out, no matter how much he whined about Scott not paying attention to him, yet the present-Derek had made some obvious improvement for he let the lanky adolescent plod alongside him wherever he went whenever Stiles needed to. The present-Stiles didn’t seem to have too much of a problem with Derek now either.

He had thought about it nights before after Derek had once again baby-sat Stiles during a movie night, thinking about after all the ‘saving one-another’ coincidences started to happen, the brooding and mean remarks turned into weak, friendly ones. It didn’t seem to matter anymore that Stiles was just the human best friend of Scott. He was now just Stiles. A determined and continuously hyper-active person that was a crucial part to missions and investigations. A teenage boy who found himself entangled in supernatural mishaps and dangerous endeavors.

Somewhere along the way, Derek found himself admiring Stiles and not despising his whole existence. _That_ was called improvement.

Derek saw Stiles turn his head and it was without a doubt that he was scanning Derek’s face.

He turned as well and was greeted by Stiles’ flushed lips and agonizingly large amber eyes. He’d be lying if he didn’t find the image attractive.

“What?” Derek asked, his eyes searching the others. Stiles was never quiet and when he was, he was obviously thinking very hard. Stiles shook his head.

“You’re unfair,” He pouted.

Derek raised a thick brow.

“You have a really unacceptable God-like shaped face and it’s making my self-confidence run for it’s life and I-- wait, are you _blushing_? Oh my god, you totally are!”

No he wasn’t. Stiles is a liar. A persistent and irritating liar who had just made Derek blush after many years of not doing so.

“Shut up,” Derek ducked his head and started to awkwardly pick at the leather exterior of his steering wheel, his heart initiating some kind of war between love and hate, “I don’t blush.”

“I can’t believe you’re such a sucker for compliments,” Stiles laughed, ignoring Derek’s very implausible lie, his eyes glowing with curiosity as he watched Derek fidget in his seat.

Derek thought of the quickest comeback he could muster and wish he hadn’t used it the second he did.

“It feeds my ego.”

Stiles eyes lit up again and Derek already knew why before he could stop it from happening.

“Because you’re hungry like the wolf?”

 

* * *

 

With a lot of dragging and moaning and suspiciously high-pitched squawks, Derek finally got Stiles to shut up about the incident and they found themselves in a 24-hour diner downtown of Beacon Hills. Derek knew that curly fries would be the only thing to shut Stiles up if not his fist.

“This means that you’re paying right?” Stiles asked, fixing his clothing after being manhandled by an unrealistically and anatomically correct muscled werewolf.

Derek awarded Stiles a look of death.

“Fantastic.”

They made themselves at home in one of the plushy red booths in the far left-hand corner of the diner, picking a seat that allowed both of them to look out of the window.

Stiles tried hard to claim back the dignity that he no longer had from Derek’s previous scene by avoiding the questioning gazes of bikers and old people alike residing in the restaurant and rolling his shoulders back in what he thought was an intimidating way.

If he didn’t take it back soon, some people would think that Derek was his overpowering boyfriend. And no way was he going to be a subject to that cruelty. Not if they _were_ going to make a relationship work. Which he didn’t want to happen. At all.

Derek’s muscles flexed through a thin and unfairly tight long-sleeve henley when he began to tinker with the salt and pepper bottles on the table and Stiles came to a conclusion.

Okay, maybe he wanted a piece of that.

Almost as if the whole world was against him, Derek transitioned from staring out the window to staring at Stiles with a weird expression, one eyebrow hitched and the other narrowed as if he smelled something funny.

That would make 14 people staring at him now, as if he needed any more.

“What?” Stiles subconsciously drew his shoulder up slightly, smelling for any trace of horrid odor. He couldn’t find any except his (very lovely) old spice deodorant and lingering bodyspray.

“You just smelled like… never mind, ”The dark-haired man shook his head, almost as if he made a mistake in what he was thinking and looked back out the window again.

Stiles gaped.

No. No  _never mind_.

“Smelled like what?” Stiles pestered.

When he didn’t reply or even look up, Stiles took one of the pink sugar packets hanging in the small rack of the table and tossed it at him. It missed his perfectly-gelled hair by an inch and hit the cushion behind him, landing with a soft thud on Derek’s thigh.

Derek gave Stiles yet another death glare and said with total resentment, “Like arousal.”

Stiles coughed loudly, spluttering nonsense while he tried to cover up his choking with a balled up fist.

Arousal. Werewolves can _smell_ that? Talk about invading privacy.

Stiles cleared his throat, “Uhm... well...”

“Yeah,” Derek offered. He looked just as pained as Stiles did.

“Could you, uh... tell for what?”

Derek shook his head again, “No. We’re in a _diner_ , Stiles. I have no clue what the hell would arouse you in here.”

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” He sighed in relief. At least that was something that he still had intact with his privacy. Derek would just have to deal with thinking that Stiles had a weird kink for public places. But to know that Derek doesn’t find himself attractive as much as everyone else does? Well that’s a secret to keep away for blackmail another day.

The waiter wearing the name tag of Paul came to the rescue not even a minute later, wanting to know what their orders were and they both gave it eagerly, realizing how hungry they actually were after a two hour stakeout. The order consisted of two cheeseburgers with everything on them along with one large curly fry that Stiles, of course, insisted on ordering.

“Just for clearance, you’re going to pay for all of this, right?” Stiles asked once they settled back into a comfortable silence, “Because I forgot my wallet at home.”

Derek knitted his eyebrows together at Stiles, who looked very sheepish and embarrassed. He sighed audibly and let his head fall back into the seat, wondering how he always ends up in predicaments like this.

“No, Stiles.”

Once they left, Stiles made sure to put down in Derek’s verbal-dictionary that when he says ‘No, Stiles’, it actually means ‘Yes, honey’.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you paid for me!”

“I can’t believe I paid for you.”

Derek’s palm plastered his face and ended at his stubble where he rubbed it languidly. He smiled lazily, his left hand in his pocket as Stiles and him walked back to Scott’s house, coincidentally a few blocks away from where Derek’s parking lot resigned. There wasn’t even a real reason why Derek was walking Stiles to Scott’s house. They could’ve just departed at Derek’s car. That was until Stiles cracked a joke about their waiter Paul and that’s when he started walking towards Stiles instead of away from him.

Derek watched as Stiles kicked a stray coke can across the street, his smile very evident in addition to his own.

“It’s almost like you took me out on a date,” Stiles laughed.

Derek let his eyebrow raise in what Stiles thought as a date, “Yeah, if you count two hours in my car in dead silence as romantic.”

Stiles snorted.

“I don’t know, dude. Hungry Like The Wolf? Great mood-setter.”

Derek laughed as well, nodding his head.

“Sure, Stiles.”

Even more than the gloomy hotness that was constantly inhabiting Derek’s body, Stiles liked this version better. The one where Derek is laughing and having what Stiles assumed was ‘fun’. So when they came up to Scott’s door in what seemed like a few minutes, he found himself not wanting to go. He wanted to make Derek laugh more and hear a few more of Derek’s jokes of which he was positive no one had ever heard before. Not even spending the night at Scott’s house could compete with what had happened in just these past hours. Whoever would choose that over this, Stiles decided, was a goddamn liar.

The house just seemed like a big block of dreadfulness now when they came closer to it, despite it's very homey style. He felt as though all the Gods hated him.

“Well, this is me.” Stiles sighed when he traveled up the wooden steps, waiting for Derek to follow only to catch him looking up to Scott’s lit window. From the way his nostrils flared and his eyebrows creased, Isaac was no doubt up there with him. Great.

“You should uh,” Stiles tried hard to find the right words to ignore the feeling of loneliness already setting it, “totally bring me along to another one of your stakeouts again. Although I could pass on the two-hour wait, the dinner afterwards isn’t that bad.”

Derek scoffed, glaring at Stiles playfully from behind a very sturdy exterior, “That’s because you didn’t have to pay.”

“When do I ever?”

“When I hate you.”

“But you love me,” Stiles winked, waving goodbye once he saw that the front door had opened to reveal Scott and Isaac. Derek smirked.

Maybe he did just a little.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated. x3 <3


End file.
